


Sick in the Head

by dannybsdadbod



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of tears, Sad, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:28:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9233189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dannybsdadbod/pseuds/dannybsdadbod
Summary: Dylan let out the frustrations from last year. The disappointments from this year, being sent back to juniors, watching his entire draft class move ahead, and now losing to team USA when he was supposed to be proving himself. The anger that they lost in a fucking shootout. The sadness that had made a home inside of his chest.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have a ton of feelings about the WJC championship game that happened last night. I needed to write about it.  
> Title from the song Sick in the Head by the Lumineers.

Dylan walked back into the dressing room with his team. His team. He is the captain. If there’s any time he has to be a captain for them, it’s right now. He can’t let his emotions get the best of him. He has to be the anchor this team trusted him to be. 

The atmosphere was solemn. It was completely quiet except for the occasional ripping of velcro or unzipping of a zipper. 

“Boys,” his voice cracked a bit as he walked to the center of the locker room. He had practiced this in his head, what he would say if they won and what he would say if they lost. This was going to be the hardest speech he’s ever going to give in his life, and he made a promise to himself to not look any of his boys in the eyes while he spoke, in fear of cracking. 

“I am proud of every single one of you. We made it this far for a reason. A shootout doesn’t decide who played better out there, and I’ll be damned if any of you let yourselves think any less of yourself as a player, as a person, because we lost that game. We played this entire tournament as hard as we could, and every one of you is responsible for us getting to the gold medal round and getting the game to a shootout in the last game. Every single one of you left your heart out on that ice, and that is more than I could’ve ever asked for. 

And yeah, I’m mad. I’m fucking pissed. Just as pissed as all of you are. And you’re allowed to be mad. You’re allowed to be upset, okay? You’re allowed to cry and scream and let your emotions out. But you are not allowed to be ungraceful or disrespectful towards the media, towards your families, or towards team USA. The media stuff will be hard, seeing that team again, on or off the ice, it’ll be hard. Seeing families and friends, it’ll be hard. But I know you guys are strong enough to persevere through this, we’ve done much worse. 

I am so incredibly lucky to have had the honor to be your captain,” Dylan took in a breath, “I love you guys.” 

Dylan nodded and went to go back to his stall, but before he could, the entire team got up and congregated in the middle. 

First was Mikey, he clapped him on the back and let him rest his head on his shoulder. The rest of the boys joined in until they were a messy pile of limbs, sweat, and tears. 

“Thank you,” Dylan wiped a tear away, “for everything.”

Mikey looked around the locker room, “let’s go get fucking drunk, eh?”   
Dylan heard variations of “fuckin’ right!”s from his teammates. He laughed a cold and shallow laugh. 

“I’ll meet up with you after the media stuff,” Dylan said to Maty, “I have to make a phone call after media but before I get drunk.”  
\--

After talking to the media, Dylan went back to his room. The group chat said that everyone was meeting up in Maty’s room right away, so knew he’d have the room to himself. 

He opened the door to his hotel room and slugged his body through the threshold. It felt like his legs were going to give out at any minute. He held himself together for so long, he talked to so many people, he just needed to let it all out. 

“Hey, buddy.”  
Dylan snapped his head up, not realizing there was another person in his room. 

“C-Connor?” Dylan’s eyes began to water just at the sight of him, “what are you doing here?”  
Connor embraced Dylan in his arms, “I figured I should be here for my boyfriend.”  
Dylan buried his face into Connor’s shoulder and let out a sob.   
“I’ve got you,” he rubbed Dylan’s back, “I’m here, babe. I’m not letting go.”  
Dylan felt so embarrassed, so vulnerable, but so lucky that Connor was here. 

He suddenly became hyper aware of the silver medal on his neck. It felt like an anchor, dragging him further and further down until he was finally submerged.

He reached towards his neck and began to claw at it. Trying to get his buttons undone, get the medal off of him, and get this fucking feeling out of his chest.

Connor put a hand on the back of Dylan’s waist to steady him before reaching to his neck. He shrugged Dylan’s jacket off for him and unbuttoned the top few buttons as well as the buttons around his wrists. He grabbed the medal off of Dylan and he instantly like he was 100lbs lighter. Connor wrapped the medal up and placed it on the table. 

“Just throw it on the ground for all I care,” Dylan wiped a hand over his face, “it’s not a big deal.”  
Connor cupped Dylan’s face, “I am not going to invalidate all of the success you had here. I am not going to invalidate the fact you just won silver for your country.”  
“I didn’t win shit. I lost and got this as compensation for losing. Silver isn’t good enough.”  
“Silver is something,” Connor knew there was no use arguing, no words would make it better. So he stuck to the facts. 

“Dyls,” Connor’s voice was so soft, “please look at me?”  
Dylan lifted his eyes off of the floor and looked into Connor’s eyes. His deep, blue eyes that Dylan loved so much. He took a deep, shaky breath and spoke again.   
“It’s not fair,” he choked on a sob.  
Connor pulled him in closer, “I know it’s not.”

Connor pressed a kiss onto Dylan’s wet cheek. He wiped some tears away and fixed his arms on Dylan’s waist. 

“Have you had anything to drink or eat yet?”  
Dylan shook his head and rubbed at his eye.   
“Alright, let me grab you some water. Come on, I need you to sit.”  
Dylan let himself be led to the bed, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to get his feet to move on their own accord.

He sat on the bed watching Connor. He looked pained, like he was holding back tears, too. 

Connor came back, knelt in front of Dylan, and uncapped the water, “please drink a bit?”  
Dylan nodded and took a few small sips before he began to cough, spitting most of the water back out.  
“Hey, hey,” Connor was at his side now, “breathe. You’re okay, you’re alright. Just breathe.”  
Dylan kept forgetting to breathe. He felt like he couldn’t. Like, he wasn’t good enough to be breathing right now.

Connor wrapped his big, ratty Erie Otters sweatshirt around Dylan and it was the first time Dylan breathed a full, real breath that night. He was overcome with the warmth of it as well as the familiar, lovely smell of Connor. 

Dylan pulled the sweatshirt sleeves over his hands and looked through his clumped eyelashes at Connor, “I’m never going to be good enough.”

Dylan leaned into Connor and broke. Finally letting it all go. He let out the frustrations from last year. The disappointments from this year, being sent back to juniors, watching his entire draft class move ahead, and now losing to team USA when he was supposed to be proving himself. The anger that they lost in a fucking shootout. The sadness that had made a home inside of his chest. 

Connor didn’t speak. He knew there was nothing he could say that would make Dylan listen, that would make him hear what he had to say. He knew there was no way to make him see the great player that Connor and all of Canada, all of the world, saw play. So he just rubbed his back, reiterating that he was there for him, that Dylan was going to be okay. 

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”  
Dylan grabbed onto the front of Connor’s shirt, trying to find to anything to stabilize him. Bring him back to Earth instead of this limbo that he felt like he was floating in.  
“Sh, sh,” Connor was rubbing his back. 

After a few minutes, Connor spoke again, “come on, babe. Let’s get you under some blankets. You’re shaking.”

Connor kept an arm around Dylan while reaching behind him to the sheets,

Dylan hadn’t realized he was shaking and frankly, he didn’t know if it was from him being cold or from crying so much.

“Babe?”   
Dylan didn’t budge. He was shaking more violently, unable to control his breathing, his mind, or his body.  
“Please,” Connor’s voice was so thin and cracked as his plea came out.  
He kept rubbing Dylan’s back and kissing his shoulder, “hey, I need you to keep breathing, Dyls.”  
Dylan sucked in a shaky breath and exhaled.   
“Great,” Dylan could hear Connor’s smile, “that was really good, Dyls. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you. Try to match your breathing to mine, alright?”

Connor grabbed Dylan’s torso, steadying him, as he guided the two to the pillows and under the covers. Dylan let Connor move him. They were somewhat horizontal on the bed, now. Connor was still holding his boy, he couldn’t fathom the idea of letting go of him for even a second. Not now. Not ever. 

Connor kissed Dylan’s forehead and let his lips rest there for a little.

“Dylan. Baby. You have grown so much these past few years, it’s incredible and astonishing. Everyone can see it. You are such an amazing captain both here and in Erie, everyone knows it. You played the best hockey I’ve seen you play in a long time out there during this tournament. It looked like you really were enjoying it, and it showed in your game. You were a firecracker out there. You played an amazing game and I am so proud of you.”

Dylan sniffed, his head was becoming lighter and his vision was becoming blurrier. He leaned his head over onto Connor’s chest. 

“Thank you for being here.”  
Connor kissed Dylan’s head, “always.”  
“Can you wake me in an hour?” Dylan rubbed at his eyes, “I need to be with the team, but I need rest first.”  
“Of course, love. Go to sleep. I’ll be here.” 

Connor felt Dylan’s breath steady itself out as he fell asleep almost immediately. 

“I’ll always be here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream about hockey and the WJC with me on tumblr @simmers


End file.
